She Who Watches (29 page)

“Same guy?

“ 'Fraid so.”

“Is he watching the place?”

“Probably. I never seem to get calls when someone's there.”

“Maybe we should bring the van over to your place and set up surveillance. I'll bet the guys would volunteer to help me around the clock for a few days.”

“Maybe.”

Mac thought it best to end the conversation before he got into more trouble. He didn't want to overstep his boundaries with Dana. He scrutinized the house. The sun would be setting soon, and the lights would come on. They'd soon find out if anyone was home. “What's the description on this Sinnott guy again—height, weight, that sort of thing?”

“The report said five-eight—190 pounds. He'd be stocky.” She reached for her case and took out a file. “Here's his picture. He's wearing a tank top that shows off his tattoos.” Dana handed Mac the photo from Sinnott's last registration visit. “He's muscular, probably worked out in prison.”

“Looks tough.” He had dark hair and was clean shaven. Several tattoos accentuated his shoulder muscles. Mac made a mental note to ask him about the tats. They might be a good interview lead to soften him up for a confession. Most people with tattoos were fairly open about discussing them—at least, that had been his experience.

Mac brought out the sodas and they chatted for a while, then lapsed into silence.

“Bingo.” Dana hit his arm to get his attention.

Mac looked up, expecting to see a car or Sinnott walking down the street. “What is it?”

“The house. A light just came on in an upstairs window.”

Mac trained his binoculars at the open window. “Looks like a bedroom. Can you see anything?”

Dana used her binoculars as well. “Nothing—not even a shadow.”

The light went off after a few minutes. Mac looked at his watch.

It was after eight. He reached for the phone to call Sergeant Bledsoe, but it rang before he could hit the talk button.

“McAllister,” he answered.

“I'm going over to Judge Morgan's house right now to get the warrant signed,” Kevin said. “The SWAT team is heading your way.

They're driving the V-150, so it'll be slow going.”

“Someone is home. We noticed a light go on and off. Hopefully, whoever is inside won't leave before you guys get here. And hopefully it's Sinnott and not Alma.”

Mac hung up and filled Dana in. “Won't be long now. The ninja boys will be here to do the dirty work in a few minutes. Once they make the arrest, we'll have our turn with Sinnott.”

Dana nodded. “I know he's our guy, Mac. DNA doesn't lie. But something doesn't feel right.”

“I know what you mean. Seems like all our work so far has been for nothing. Sara's death still feels like a revenge killing to me, not a random act. Be interesting to see if Sinnott has ties with Sara or someone who knew her.”

“Like her cousin Aaron?”

“Or her husband.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

M
ac and Dana waited in the van for another hour before receiving a call from their sergeant saying he had just turned off the freeway with the SWAT team and a signed warrant to search Sinnott's house and outbuildings. The first order of business would be to secure the residence, interview Sinnott, and finally search for evidence of the crime.

Several lights came on in the house, but they still couldn't see the occupant. They finally heard 12-33 over the police radio, the code indicating the SWAT commander was calling for radio silence so his commands could not be talked over by an unsuspecting trooper who was not familiar with the operation. The members on the tactical team had a scrambled radio channel of their own, but they wouldn't go to this encrypted frequency until they had exited their vehicles. The encrypted channels scrambled the officers' conversations so someone with a police scanner couldn't monitor them.

Big Johnson, a large black armored command vehicle with the lights blacked out, pulled past the target house. The van was equipped with light armor and looked like a UPS delivery truck on steroids. It had been designed for the military but was very popular among police agencies for its ability to safely carry twelve officers into dangerous perimeters like this one might prove to be. Twelve perimeter officers jumped from the back of the van, taking positions outside the house and around the foliage. With scoped rifles and high-power binoculars, their job would be to monitor the outside of the target location for escaping subjects. The officers, dressed in black, disappeared into the night as quickly as they had arrived.

Mac's heart pumped hard and heavy with anticipation. He opened the door to the van slowly, making sure Lucy didn't escape when he and Dana stepped out. After grabbing his rifle, he closed the van door and stepped to the back of the vehicle.

He could hear the distant rumble of the heavy armored assault vehicle, the department V-150, coming up the road. It, too, had been designed by the military. The fifty-caliber machine-gun turret had been deleted on a civilian order and replaced with a heavy bulldozer blade and long metal ramming bar. The V-150, with its oversize tires and thick armor, was virtually impenetrable to light arms fire.

Many who weren't familiar with the law-enforcement version thought the ramming bar, a thick hollow metal tube, was a cannon protruding from the front of the menacing-looking vehicle. The look of the vehicle alone had convinced many suspects to give up their barricaded strongholds and surrender.

The V-150 carried a hostage negotiator, who served as the driver, along with the SWAT entry team. If the negotiator could not convince the suspect to give up, the entry team would enter the residence and locate their bad guy. The team would try peaceful negotiations before sending in the big guns. In every case, however, they were prepared for the worst-case scenario. The SWAT commander in the first armored vehicle directed the driver of the V-150 to motor up to the front of the residence and begin so-called negotiations, which were essentially, “Give up, or we will destroy your house and hurt you in the process.”

The diesel engine revved as the heavy vehicle lumbered down the driveway. Diesel exhaust clouded the air.

The lights went out in the house as the V-150 approached, but the floodlights from the SWAT vehicle went on, illuminating the entry and the area around it.

Mac charged his AR-15, slamming a .223 round into the chamber with a thud of the rifle's bolt. He wrapped the sling around his left arm and took aim from behind the van. Dana did the same with her handgun, though it wouldn't be much use from this distance.

“Flight or fight time,” Mac said in a hushed voice.

“This guy's going to fight,” Dana said. “You can just tell.”

“He looks tough, but I'll bet he's a wimp. Either that, or he'll explode out of there with guns blazing.”

“Suicide by cop?” Dana shrugged. “I wouldn't put it past him.”

Desperate suspects sometimes convinced themselves that suicide was the only answer, so they tried to take as many cops as possible with them before they were gunned down.

“He'll fight.” Dana seemed too sure of herself.

Mac knew better than to make a wager with his partner. She read people far better than he did. Still, he couldn't pass up the opportunity. “Coffee for a month?”

“You're on.” Dana's lips curled in a know-it-all smile.

Mac leveled his front sight on the entrance, alternating between the door and the window where he and Dana initially saw the light go on. He hoped Alma Sinnott wasn't around for this. Nobody decent should have to live through a SWAT team assault on their home.

“I just hope he doesn't use Alma for a hostage,” Dana whispered, echoing his thoughts.

The loudspeaker from the SWAT negotiator would serve to get the innocent parties out. If no one came out, officers would assume it was the bad guy, an empty house, or a hostage situation. Of course, the woman could be physically unable to get out. Mac hoped that wasn't the case.

The negotiator in the V-150 began his verbal assault on the house over the vehicle's loudspeaker, reading from a prepared card that was intended to protect the department from civil liability as much as it was intended to get the suspect to come out. The general rule of thinking for the police was to warn the suspects that they may be shot, so there was no surprise if they actually had to do it. It seemed inane, but in the day of civil lawsuits, officers were trained to protect their financial interests as well as their physical well-being.

“Occupants of the house, this is the Oregon State Police. We have your home surrounded and are in possession of a valid search warrant. Occupants, you are ordered to come out the front door with your hands over your head. Failure to obey this demand may result in serious physical injury or death. Occupants, come out of the house now.” The negotiator paused for a moment, all eyes on the front door.

Mac clicked the safety off his rifle and released a long, steady breath. There was no movement in the house, no sound.

The negotiator repeated the commands three more times. When attempts for a peaceful resolution failed, the SWAT team leader gave the green light for a tactical assault on the house. The V-150 roared to life, lowering the bulldozer blade with the long rammer bar to a height of four feet and then surged forward. The ram bar met the front door seconds later, splintering the wood and surrounding frame into a thousand pieces. The operator of the SWAT vehicle then raised the blade and backed away from the house, the rammer bar taking a huge chunk out of the front of the house twice the size of the original doorframe. The gaping hole would allow the team a point of entry wide enough for multiple officers to raid the house.

As the V-150 backed away, ten SWAT officers rolled out both sides of the armored vehicle in two single-file lines. Bright light reflected off the goggles as they charged the building. The first officer pulled a metal canister from his vest, which Mac immediately recognized as a flash-bang grenade. The diversionary device would explode with a large boom of sound and light, designed to distract and disorient a suspect. The officer pulled the pin on the flash-bang and threw the device in the front door.

The SWAT officers stepped back and ducked, plugging their ears as best they could. Since they had to have all their senses when they entered a house, they didn't wear ear protection.

After the loud explosion and flash of light, the entry team charged into the house, barking orders and yelling. The yelling continued for several minutes before he noted a shift in dialogue. Mac couldn't tell what they were saying, but he gathered they had located Sinnott, and there was some type of standoff. The SWAT members shifted over to their encrypted radio frequency, and Mac and Dana were unable to monitor the situation on Mac's radio.

Mac groaned. “He's not giving up.”

“I just hope they don't kill him.”

“You and me both.” Although they felt certain they had Sara's killer, Mac really wanted a crack at Sinnott to put closure on the case.

The yelling subsided after the negotiator exited the V-150 and entered the house. It was his job now to try to establish a rapport with whomever they had in the house and hopefully get the suspect to give up. If not, the team's last option would be to gas the house. Not only did tear gas ruin the dwellings where it was deployed, it sometimes forced confrontations and was used as a last resort. Mac shuddered to think about what it would do to the elderly woman.

“Stay here.” He motioned to Dana. “I'm going to get closer—try to get a better idea of what's going on.”

“Sure.”

Mac made his way over to one of the perimeter members, who stood near a lilac bush. He made sure the SWAT member recognized him as one of the good guys before he approached. The officer pulled down his black mask to reveal his entire face. It was a trooper from the Portland office, a guy Mac knew.

“What's the deal?” Mac asked.

“Those of us on the perimeter can stand down for the time being; the suspect is holed up in an attic and threatening to shoot anyone who goes up the ladder. The negotiator was able to get a cell phone up to him so they can talk without yelling. Looks like they are making progress. I think if he wanted a shootout, he would have done it by now. He's got no bargaining chips and no hostage—at least that we know of. Doesn't appear to be anyone else in the house.”

“Thanks for the heads-up.” Mac returned to the van to use the facilities and found Lucy cowering and whining in the back—probably from the flash-bang. “What's the matter, girl? Those noises scare you?” Mac wished now that he hadn't brought her. His past covert operations with Lucy had gone more smoothly than this one. He used the bathroom, then leashed her and took her outside and behind the van where she relieved herself. He'd just put her back inside when Kevin made his way toward them.

“I wondered what had happened to you,” Mac said.

“I've been standing on the other side, trying to figure out what's going down. You heard anything?”

“They have someone holed up in the attic.”

“Right.” Kevin nodded. “Owen Sinnott. Now if they can only get him to give up without a fight.”

“Doesn't look good so far,” Mac said.

Kevin sighed. “You two can go on in and monitor the negotiations. Bring a tape recorder and take notes.”

“You want us to go in there?” Dana asked.

“You'll be safe enough.”

“It isn't that, exactly. I didn't think the SWAT team wanted us.”

“Our SWAT members are very good at what they do, but they try to avoid taking part in actions or conversations that will tie them up in court. They want us in there monitoring the conversation in case Sinnott mentions anything about the case.”

“Why didn't you say so?” Dana climbed into the van to retrieve her tape recorder and grabbed an extra tape and writing pad.